all roads
by pyrat-xo
Summary: one piece drabbles. stories with less than 300 words; various characters. chapter 9: brook
1. zoro: swords

**swords**

**character: zoro**

Zoro knows, in the most fundamental part of his soul, that swords are meant to cut. They cut to protect, to destroy, to cleave apart any obstacle in his way. A sword that doesn't cut is not a sword, the same way ships that can no longer sail are no longer ships; a man who can no longer dream is not a man...

Swords hunger for flesh, thirst for blood. Swords are unpredictable, beautiful, strong. They are full of passion and joy; rage and sadness. Each of his swords is and has been a piece of his soul, and even death couldn't drag them apart.

But things change.

Rogue swords seek out strong masters, and fight until they find an enemy they cannot cut.

Swords are stubborn, and try anyway.

He would throw away his dream and cease to be a man. He would cast aside his ambition, his promises, his self-- and become nothing. He will protect, he will destroy. He will cleave apart any obstacle in his way. He will hunger for flesh and thirst for blood; when Zoro stands between death and his crew, he is steel and he will not budge.


	2. merry: ocean floor

**character: merry**

The ocean floor is dark, but it's not very lonely at all.

There are voices of other ships, currents at the bottom are warm and inviting. Not, as Merry had first thought, a bad place to sink.

The water glitters with thousands of tiny lights, reflecting flames of hope and adventure. It's specked with ashes and dust, but he can see through all that.

It's peaceful and Merry's content, for all he can still hear echoes of a crew.


	3. robin: legends

**character: nico robin**

Robin has never met a man like Crocodile.

She's met cowardly men, stupid men, evil men, kind, tough, weak, confident...

She's never met a man who was so unrepentantly evil, so confident in each step of his plan, so great in the scope of his ambition, intelligent enough to get him there and with the foresight to crush any opposition.

Robin has never been more terrified of a man.

Robin has never met a man like Luffy.

He kicked Crocodile's ass.

She's never _met_ a man like Luffy, but she's sure _read_ a lot about them.

They're called "legends."


	4. cp9: regroup

**crew: cp9**

"Put it on."

Califa raised an eyebrow (the other had been singed off hours ago); "That's sexual harrasment."

Jyabura bit back a snarl and dropped his shirt at her feet, then stared her down. "I'm pulling rank. Put it on."

Kumadori dove for cover. Blueno shoulder-checked Fukurou against a half-collapsed wall and promptly zipped his mouth shut. As far as they were concerned, only someone who didn't really value their life would attempt to stare Califa down, douriki be damned.

Califa dropped the curtain that had been keeping her somewhat decent and bent over to reach for his shirt; "You know, I never pinned you as the chivalrous type."

Jyabura turned on his heels and busied himself with nagging Kaku awake. "I'm not."

Condescending sniff; "I know."

"What's the closest town?"

"St. Poplar. It's good to see you awake, Kaku."

"Nngh, where's Lucci?"

"He'll probably live."

Jyabura hauled Kaku onto his back and started down a set of sea-train tracks. "None'a you bastards better fuckin' die on me."


	5. zoro, luffy: mind control

**characters: luffy, zoro**

"Get out of here."

Luffy grins up at them through the bars of the seastone cage, shifts slowly, lethargically against his seastone shackles. Brook breathes a quiet _Yohohoho... but we can get you out, Luffy-san. _

Nami pulls at Zoro's sleeve, tells him to cut the bars so Luffy can get out, and then they can go back to the Sunny, and they'll kick all the marine ass they need to on the way back; they can do it, as long as Luffy is with them and...

And Zoro knows it's hopeless. He can't cut seastone, and there are no guards, no keys.

Luffy's gaze is steady, unwavering. "They'll let you go. As soon as I leave, they'll Buster Call the whole island. They'll let you go if I'm still here. No loopholes this time."

Nami whispers, _We've already survived one Buster Call, we can survive another._

The rest of the crew is still searching for keys. They won't find them.

"Zoro. Take care of everyone."

Zoro sees a man who believes, _As long as they're all okay, it's fine if I die _and he thinks it's honorable. Noble, even.

But unacceptable.

The weight of Luffy's haki crushes the air out of his lungs before he can protest, and Luffy's eyes bore into his.

Captain's orders.

Zoro thinks that it's not fucking_ fair_. He shoves Nami gently down the hall, towards Sanji and Chopper and Usopp. Brook heads the other way to round up Robin and Franky.

Zoro looks down into Luffy's face and feels as if he's staring into the ocean. "Are you satisfied?"

"Not if you all stop here. Go."

He does.


	6. kuina: alone

**AU kuina**

"My name is Kuina, Demon of the Grand Line. I have spent the last ten years honing my skill and tracking you down. Juraquille Mihawk, I challenge you to a duel."

It was over in seconds, as fights between great warriors tended to be.

Mihawk's last word had been, _Magnificent_; Kuina buried him in the shade of the tallest, strongest tree on the island.

She returned to the harbor and cast off in her own little boat, fell sleep wrapped in dreams of wind-swept fields of grass.


	7. crew: stand together

**strawhats**

Luffy is a lot of things.

Zoro borrows his strength and returns it tenfold-- support and trust where he can, and always the expectation that being with Luffy will get him where he wants to go. There's no other place he'd rather be.

Nami's intuition is on par with Luffy's; she can sense the slightest changes in air pressure, currents and temperature. The difference is that Luffy doesn't need tools-- then again, weather forecasting is less predictable than the future, and the future is that Luffy becomes Pirate King.

Luffy is blunt where Usopp isn't; Usopp won't face anything head-on unless he has something to prove, and that something means more to him than life itself. These things include: his dream, his friends, his captain's trust. If anyone wishes to dispute this claim, they had better bring balls of frickin' _brass_.

Sanji, after meeting Luffy, has decided that it's not worth giving up when he can move ahead and has since vowed to himself that he'll never say anything weak like "give up your dreams" ever again. All Blue is waiting.

When Luffy stands alone against a power he doesn't have the strength to defeat (and this is a very small category), his crew stands behind him.


	8. whitebeard

**Prompt: **Position

Whitebeard blames. Himself--

no.

He blames Blackbeard. But he also blames himself.

Ironically, he blames himself more than he blames Blackbeard.

Marco looks between him, back in his seat, and Ace, sitting on the deck. "Pop..."

Ace withers under Whitebeard's contemplative stare and bites back tears. Of relief or shame, Marco doesn't know-- but he pretends not to see. Probably both.

"I shouldn't've--"

Ace cuts himself off as a hand settles on his head and Whitebeard leans forward to look him straight in the eye.

Anyone who has ever looked Whitebeard straight in the eye (including Marco) winces; Ace looks worse than he had on the execution stand. When Whitebeard speaks, his voice is steady, full of regret and sorrow and apology.

"I send my sons into danger and they go without hesitation. They follow stupid, prideful orders for my sake, and I'm grateful."

Every member of the crew seems ready to protest, only refraining from doing so because their captain is still speaking. Whitebeard's expression breaks into a grin and his voice becomes a deep, thunderous roar, shaking the boards beneath their feet.

"I'm so. Goddamn. _Proud_. Of every. Single. One of you."

They all cheer. They cry, they yell, and they stream in to bury Ace under a flurry of excited hugs, light punches; to clap him on the shoulder and tell him they're glad he's home.


	9. brook: counting up

**prompt: **anniversary

Three thousand six hundred fifty days, including leap years, is three thousand six hundred fifty-six days.

Brook absently adjusts the lapels of his suit and straightens his hat while he carefully adds another mark on the door that leads into the main cabin.

That would be... ten years to the day since he'd found his body again.

Or at least, he's pretty sure that was right. Brook had started the tally as soon as it became apparent that he was at the mercy of the currents, and he'd kept count every day since. There was a time between the sixth and seventh years that he'd stopped holding the numbers in his mind; partly because it scared him that he'd been adrift for so long but mostly because counting the days seemed so futile. He'd still faithfully added a mark every morning, though.

And he's actually not even sure if the count_ is _exactly right-- there were days he's forgotten whether or not he had marked, and added one just to be safe, so the actual count might be lower than his count. He fervently hopes that this is the case.

After all, the less Laboon has to wait, the better.

Brook settles on the figurehead, sets his violin carefully on his shoulder, sweeps his bow grandly across the strings and waits for the day to pass.


End file.
